


i don't know where i belong

by notquitepunkrock



Series: the kids you used to love, but then we grew old [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Angst, Child Abuse, Family, Gen, Running Away, Sibling Fluff, honestly fuck the blacks but god bless Sirius and Reg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 08:16:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12077163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notquitepunkrock/pseuds/notquitepunkrock
Summary: Regulus finally worked up the nerve to run.





	i don't know where i belong

**Author's Note:**

> Molly wanted angsty Regulus backstory, so here he is in all his glory. This takes place in the summer before the other fics in the series.

Regulus paused outside of the cafe, glancing around before he ducked inside. It was cold inside, a contrast to the muggy heat that had his smooth black hair going frizzy. He scanned the shop quickly, catching sight of his brother near the back corner. Regulus hurried over to him and slid into the seat across the table, glaring from under his hair.

“You came.” Sirius sounded surprised. He shoved a cup across the table filled with what smelled like fruity tea. “Here, this is for you.”

Regulus took a sip. Raspberry. His favorite. He put the cup down and narrowed his eyes again at his older brother, folding his hands in his lap the way he’d always been taught. It was a contrast the tight set of his brother’s shoulders and the way he had his legs spread and leaned heavily on the tabletop. His hair was thrown in a messy bun, quite unlike Regulus’ aristocratic curls. A passerby would be unable to tell that they’d both been raised under the strict tutelage of Walburga and Orion Black, though nearly thirty years apart.

“How’s Walburga?” Sirius asked cautiously, taking a sip of his own drink. Regulus shrugged, holding back a flinch at mention of their mother. 

Walburga was a wicked old woman, the kind who should really never have children to care for. She’d had Sirius at eighteen, almost nine months to the day after her arranged marriage to their father, and had been plenty content to leave it at that, having produced an heir for her husband. That was all well and good until Sirius ran away at sixteen. For the next thirteen years, she’d tried and failed to have a second son - there were rumors of the birth of a daughter who’d been killed after the disappointment of her birth - until someone remembered she’d had some of her eggs frozen after Sirius was born.

With the use of a surrogate and those eggs, Regulus was born when Walburga was forty-nine, and had spent the past sixteen years wishing she’d just given up on having a child. 

“She’s fine,” he said stiffly, pressing his lips into a thin line. Sirius looked concerned peering into Regulus’ face. 

“Still a bitch, is she?” he asked. Regulus did flinch this time, his dark eyes flashing with something almost akin to pain. Sirius nodded, looking as though that was all the proof he needed. He leaned forward just a bit, and Regulus felt the need to scoot out of his brother’s way.

Sirius clenched his jaw. “They’ve fucked you up,” he muttered, so quietly that Regulus wasn’t even sure he’d heard right. “Reg, do you want to get out of there?” His tone was serious, far more so than Regulus had ever heard before. Normally, his brother was a bit of a jokester or acted like a pretentious asshole - not that he had room to talk - but this was… different.

“What do you mean?” he asked, trying to hide the way his hands shook. He’d thought about following his brother’s footsteps and running away more times than he could count, but the thought was too scary. If he got caught… Regulus was unable to hide the shudder that wracked his thin body.

Sirius’ gray eyes flicked to the doorway, then back to Regulus. “I have a house,” he said. “Well, Remus and I do. I have a steady job at the high school where I live, I have money. I can get you out of there. You’ll never have to worry about them again.”

It sounded too good to be true. “I can’t,” he whispered, shoving his chair back. “You might be able to run away from this family, but I am a good son. I have a responsibility to the House of Black.” The words weren’t sincere, but they did the job. Sirius’ face dropped, and he looked down in embarrassment. Regulus took one last look at the cup of tea and sneered, shoving it in front of Sirius. “Take your stupid commoner’s tea and go back to your liberal hovel.”

Regulus didn’t look at his brother’s face as he left the cafe. His words had hurt as much as he was sure they’d hurt him, but they were necessary. He couldn’t run away. Sirius was the brave one. He wasn’t. 

It was easy enough to find the words. He’d just repeated what he’d been told his whole life by his parents, the stories about how he was meant to be his brother but better, groomed to take over the Black family patriarchy upon reaching eighteen.

It only took twenty minutes for him to make it to the Black brownstone in the middle of the city. He brushed his hair flat and carefully opened the door. If he slipped in quietly, maybe he could make it to the bedroom before they noticed he’d been gone at all. Maybe everything would be okay.

Someone cleared their throat from the sitting room, and Regulus froze. He turned slowly on one foot, ducking his head and locking his eyes on the shiny toes of his dress shoes. Orion Black was sitting in a stiff-backed arm chair in the living room. His gray eyes held none of the warmth of his brother’s, nothing but cold fury. 

“Where were you, Regulus?” he said calmly, but there was an edge to his voice that made Regulus shiver. 

“I was taking a walk, Father,” he lied, carefully not looking up from the floor. There was a soft, humorless chuckle from his father. 

“You weren’t,” he said easily. “You know to tell your mother if you are just taking a walk. She was worried sick you know. Her only son, wandering the city without telling her where he’s gone. Nearly broke her fragile heart.”

Regulus doubted that very much. He was fairly certain his mother didn’t even have a heart, let alone a fragile one. “Where was I, then, Father?” he asked, immediately regretting it. His father stood, heavy footsteps crossing the room until his shining leather shoes appeared in line of Regulus’ vision. 

“Look at me,” he demanded, voice gone emotionless. Regulus looked up, staring up at the man with dark, fearful eyes. Orion reached into his pocket, pulling out a cell phone in a deep green case. Regulus felt his face pale. He swallowed the lump in his throat as his father typed in the passcode (he’d changed it, how did he know it) and thumbed through the messages until he found the incriminating one. “‘Message from Sirius. Meet me Thursday at Leaky cafe.’”

He dropped the phone, letting it smash onto the dark wood floor. Regulus flinched, but he didn’t dare to look away from his father’s face. “I’ve told you,” he said angrily. “I’ve told you to stay away from that boy and his kind. I’ve told you that he is a bad influence, that he is a demon, and yet you sneak away to see him. Is this how I’ve raised you?” 

Regulus heard smack before he even felt the sting of it across his cheek. He grit his teeth and held his ground, not even stumbling. “Your mother will be ashamed,” Orion seethed. “Go to your room, and don’t expect to come back down for dinner.”

“Yes sir,” Regulus whispered, turning and walking slowly up the stairs until he was out of his father’s sight. He ran the rest of his way to his bedroom, locking himself in and pressing his head into his hands. 

He stayed like that for lord knows how long, until the doorknob jiggled. He looked up just as Mr. Keecher, lovingly known as Kreacher, came in. The ancient butler placed a tray on his bedside table and bowed, low and respectful.

“Master Regulus, is there anything I can do?” he asked quietly. Regulus paused. 

“You won’t tell my parents?” he asked slowly. Kreacher shook his head, looking offended. The man, though he had a historic dislike of Regulus’ older brother, had doted on him throughout his childhood. He had been a keeper of many of Regulus’ secrets, and had often sworn he would take him out of the house if he could, despite his deep loyalty to Walburga. 

Regulus stood grabbing a backpack from the ground. He began tossing his most important things in the bag - his laptop, a few old photos dug up from the attic of his brother, books that he couldn’t live without or were too old and expensive to buy now. “Give me your phone. I need to make a call.”

Kreacher looked confused, but tossed carefully fished an ancient flip phone out of his pocket. Regulus took it and pulled a phone number from beneath the false bottom of his desk. He typed it into the phone with shaking hands. “Malfoy, I need your help,” he mumbled. 

\---

It was late when Draco Malfoy finally left the ancestral home of the Blacks, so late that Orion and Walburga fell right into bed. It was only twenty minutes later when Regulus could hear their snores from down the hall.

He crept down the stairs with his backpack, slipping out of the house only a moment later. His steps were light as he ran down the street to where a sleek black car was parked. The driver leaned over to unlock the passenger door and Regulus slid inside, leaning his head back against the headrest.

“I can take you as far as Nymphadora’s house,” his cousin said, putting the car into drive silently. “I don’t have a place for you to stay, we haven’t even bought a couch yet. But she’ll be glad to let you stay for a while.” 

Regulus swallowed hard and nodded. “Thank you,” he mumbled. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience.” 

Draco didn’t reply until they reached a stoplight. Then raised his hand and gently patted his shoulder. “Don’t ever apologize for getting out of a situation like that. You did the right thing,” he said. 

Suddenly, Regulus remembered that his cousin had left Malfoy Manor at eighteen following his father’s arrest for being involved in some exceptionally shady business deals. He’d gotten a degree and worked himself up from rock bottom until he became an AP psychology teacher, but his family situation had never been too different from Regulus’ own. 

The rest of the ride out of the city and to the town where Draco lived was silent. Draco dropped him in front of their cousin’s small house and drove off, with a promise to check up on him in the morning. Regulus nodded, but he didn’t go inside.

He’d spent the hours waiting for his parents to fall asleep studying maps of town, and was mostly confident he could find his way to his brother’s house by himself. He would never admit to needing help.

It was hours before he showed up on Sirius’ doorstep, face dusty and and feet bleeding inside his dress shoes. (Black men don’t wear casual footwear, it had been drilled into his head for years.) He raised a sweaty fist to knock on the pale yellow door, hands shaking. After what he’d said at the cafe, he wouldn’t be surprised if Sirius turned him down and sent him back to the house he’d run from.

The door opened with a soft creak, and the scarred face of his brother’s best friend appeared in the space left behind. “Regulus?” he said with an astonished smile. “What are you doing here?” 

“I’m tired,” he said instead. Remus frowned, eyes landing on his cheek and widening. He ushered Regulus inside, hurrying him towards the dining room. He caught sight of himself in a mirror hanging in the foyer, and was startled by his own appearance. His brown eyes were tired, with bags under them and dark circles that made them look sunken in. He was thin, always had been, but somehow the way he was wearing it made him look unhealthy. His hair was tangled from running his hands through it, and there was a bright red mark on his cheek shaped like a hand, right where he’d been slapped. His cheekbone was even starting to bruise.

He noticed this just seconds before he was ushered into the dining room, where Sirius was drinking a cup of coffee at the table. “Who was it Remus?” he asked, flipping a page in the newspaper.

Tears welled up in his eyes. “Hey, Sirius,” he said quietly, voice breaking. Sirius looked up in alarm, dropping the newspaper and standing quickly, nearly knocking over the chair he’d been sitting on. 

“Reg,” he gasped, crossing the dining room in three strides and folding the teenager into his arms. Regulus began crying into his brother’s shirt. “Hey, welcome home. I’ve got you, they’ll never hurt you again. I promise.” 

Regulus breathed in his brother’s cologne and gripped him tighter. He finally felt safe for the first time in sixteen years.


End file.
